


Two Little Sweethearts

by hoshiko2kokoro (hoshiko2)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoshiko2/pseuds/hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred and Arthur promise to tone down their PDA, but it might just drive Alfred to the brink of patience.<br/>(For day one of the Sweetheart's Week event at the usxuk community.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch

Blue eyes stared longingly into green eyes. A hand caressed one cheek and another slid up a shirt. One of them giggled nervously making the other smile. They were close enough their breaths mingled.

"Oh, Alfred. You're such a sap," Arthur whispered. He continued to stare at him affectionately.

"Yeah, but you love me." Alfred kissed Arthur on the lips. His arms wrapped securely around Arthur's waist. He nearly pulled him into his lap had Arthur not put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Really, my dear," Arthur breathed with a smile. His face was a deep shade of crimson. "Behave yourself."

"Yeah, seriously," Gilbert's voice popped the couple's bubble. Noise from the school's cafeteria rushed back to them as if the volume had been turned up with a knob. Colors that had been muted before were slowly coming back. A trio of friends sat across from the overly affectionate couple looking obviously uncomfortable and upset.

"You two need to get a room," Gilbert grumbled. He took a drink of his soda. "This is getting out of hand."

"Aw, it's not that bad," Alfred commented. He returned his hands to himself. Arthur slid back into his own seat, still red in the face.

"It is a bit obscene," Kiku agreed. "Maybe you two should…"

"What our Asian friend is trying to say is, we're tired of you two nearly gettin' it on every day!" Gilbert complained, slamming his soda down.

"And at home," Alfred's brother, Matthew, quipped. "Even our parents were thinking of having a talk with you two about it."

Alfred threw his hands up in frustration. "I can't help my hormones! I'm sixteen, dating a sexy Senior, and I'm horny!"

Other students looked over in disgust and amusements. Arthur put a hand on Alfred's arm. "Perhaps we should tone it down some?"

"Aw man, not you too!" Alfred crossed his arms and pouted. "This isn't fair. I wouldn't care if you three got girlfriends, or whatever, and started sucking face with them!"

"But that's the point. We _don't_ and it's…odd to see you two do it so freely," Kiku explained.

"Half the time you two don't even talk to us." Gilbert glared at Alfred over the rim of his soda can.

"I apologize," Arthur said sincerely. "I had no idea it was so upsetting. I will curb myself."

Alfred sighed loudly in agitation, earning him a jab in the side from Arthur. The upperclassman gave Alfred a warning look. "Tch. _Fine_. I'll behave at school."

"And home," Matthew tacked on. Alfred opened his mouth to argue, but Matthew stressed, " _And home_."

The school bell rang. The group of friends gathered their empty plates to deposit them in the trash. Arthur and Alfred's were still quite full, though. Matthew raised an eyebrow at his brother. Alfred's growth spurt had hit him hard two years ago, and it was still going strong. He usually ate everything in sight, and then complained how he was still hungry.

"Wow, I forgot I had food here," Alfred said in disbelief. He smirked at Arthur. "See what you do to me, babe."

Arthur looked at him unimpressed. Then, in one swift move, Alfred grabbed his hamburger and ate it whole. Arthur continued to watch him with little interest. A normal boyfriend might worry about choking, but Arthur was quite used to it. That, and he knew just how talented Alfred was with his mouth.

Alfred let out a small burp of approval before smiling at Arthur. "Ready?"

He leaned in to kiss Arthur, but the Englishman took a few steps back with his hands up. "Honestly, Alfred…"

"Op, wait, that's right. I can't. Sorry." Alfred backed away as well with a sheepish grin on his face.

Arthur frowned. "No, Alfred, that's not-"

"Nope! You made me agree!" Alfred began to walk backwards to an exit, waving at Arthur. "See ya during Math in next period!"

* * *

Math was excruciating. The couple always sat with Alfred behind Arthur so he could play footsie with him or lean forward when the teacher looked away to kiss at the back of his neck. Alfred was a good student, though. He focused on Math well enough to skip two levels up. However, he was still easily distracted.

Today he was a nervous wreck. He drummed his fingers on his desk, fidgeted in his seat every so often, and was unable to look past Arthur's blond hair. Arthur's head bobbed up and down as he looked from the white board down to his notebook to take notes. Alfred imagined his legs were spread open and that head was making those same motions on his-

"Jones!"

Alfred was startled out of his wet dreams. The teacher was glaring impatiently at him. Arthur had turned in his seat with an eyebrow raised. A few of the other students were looking as well.

"Um… 69?" Alfred tried. Arthur shook his head, turning back around. The students in the classroom began to giggle. Alfred flushed in embarrassment.

"No, Alfred," the teacher said, displeased. "Maybe if you stopped looking at your boyfriend with your eyes glazed over, you'd actually learn something."

Alfred saw Arthur's neck go red as he scuttled down in his seat. He wanted to reach out and kiss it, but he couldn't. So instead he put his head down on the desk and wished he'd never made that dumb promise. He was a physical guy. This was torture to him. Before Arthur he'd never really had the problem. Of course, he hugged his family more than anyone when at home and he loved to pat his friend's backs randomly, but the intensity of his desire to touch and be touched was inflamed upon meeting Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

By the end of the day Alfred was wound tight with desire. He was so used to having already had his fill of Arthur's body. To make matters worse, Arthur was to come over and tutor Alfred in English. While he may be brilliant in equations, he was rather lack-luster in dissecting books and then constructing an essay on them. And Matthew would be home, meaning Alfred would have to be on his best behavior.

Arthur already had his car and driver's license, so on the days he came over, Alfred and Matthew would catch a ride home with him. Alfred always took shotgun, but today he opted to sit in the back. He sometimes rubbed Arthur's leg on the drive home to tease him. Given how close he felt to snapping, he felt it was for the best that he put distance between him and Arthur.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked when Alfred climbed into the backseat.

"Hm? Yeah." He buckled up and smiled up at Matthew who had turned around in his seat in the front. "Just, you never know what I could do if I'm close to you, right? Haha!"

Arthur frowned again, much like when they were in the cafeteria. "Alfred, that's-"

"So, let's get going!"

Arthur sighed in resignation. He turned back around and started the car up. Matthew continued to stare at Alfred for a bit before he too turned back around. Alfred noticed that Arthur sent him a few looks in the rearview mirror now and again, but for the most part he seemed completely fine.

It wasn't fair how Arthur could keep his cool all day. He never looked out of sorts at this distance. Maybe he didn't love Alfred as much as he had claimed. Maybe this wasn't such a big deal to him because he felt overwhelmed by Alfred's constant touching. Maybe he was glad to have some space. Alfred looked down into his lap as he mulled over these disastrous thoughts. Would this mean the end?

The drive home usually took ten minutes, but in Alfred's head that day it felt like hours. He had fallen into a foul mood upon arriving home. Matthew instantly went up to his room as he didn't need help from Arthur in English. The Jones' wouldn't be home for another hour. Alfred _could_ take this opportunity of solitude to release all of his pent up desire to touch and kiss Arthur, but he didn't. He was too worried that he had suffocated Arthur.

"How about we start right away?" Alfred offered. He sat at the kitchen table and dumped all of his textbooks onto the table. "Oops!"

Arthur looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed. "What is with you today?"

"Butterfingers," Alfred tried in a joking tone. He shoved all of the books onto the floor, only to bend down and retrieve his English book. He blanched at the cover as he straightened up. "Ugh, this stuff is so boring."

"Would you rather we didn't?" Arthur asked taking a step forward. Alfred took a step back. Arthur frowned. "What is going on, Alfred Jones? Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything," Alfred said curtly as he took a seat. "I'm just doing as everyone wanted."

"No, you're not." Arthur put his bag down and stepped up to the table. "You're avoiding me on purpose."

"That's what everyone wanted, though!" Alfred exclaimed.

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. "No, they wanted us to tone it down. Not _ever_ touch."

"But if I touch you, I'll want more." Alfred looked down at his hands, imagining he was feeling Arthur's skin under his fingers. "You're so… You're like the best kind of chocolate in the world. I want to constantly have you. It's like… I'm afraid if I don't, then this won't be real and you won't really love me…"

"Alfred…" Arthur sounded touched.

"But, you're the one who doesn't mind," Alfred continued. He closed his eyes. "I'm suffocating you, isn't it? That's why you're not all worked up, like me. You can keep calm and such. Because I'm not…a big deal."

Arthur clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Silly boy." He came over and lifted Alfred's head up. He then leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. Alfred's eyes remained open. If he closed the, he'd sink into that feeling and never want to leave. Arthur pulled back, but remained close enough that his hot breath ghosted over Alfred's lips. "Of course you're a 'big deal'. My dear, do you think I didn't miss all of the silly things you do to me? You're the one who caresses my neck to remind me that I'm there in Math. You're the one who seeks me out in the middle of the day and runs to hug and kiss me in front of the entire population, not caring who sees us, just so you can say you missed me? You're the one that I think about all day and can't wait to hold in my arms again."

Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "But…at lunch. You moved away."

"Because you had just burped," Arthur replied with a monotone. "You think I'd want to kiss you after that?"

Alfred flushed slightly. "Ah, yeah… Um, but what about you being so cool and such?"

"Just because I am on the outside doesn't mean I am on the inside." Arthur moved to sit in Alfred's lap, and then ran a hand through his hair. He smirked with a devious glint to his eyes. "I'm older than you and have slightly better control of my emotions than you."

"So…you still want my hot bod?" Alfred asked for clarification.

" _Oh yes_ ," Arthur purred. Alfred leaned in with a sly smile, but Arthur stopped him with a hand on his mouth. "But, we did promise, dear."

Alfred leaned his head back with a groan. "But I don't know how to handle it!"

"Dear, we can still hold hands and kissing me- kissing, not snogging- is fine. Our friends would just like a chance to have some time to talk with us and not watch as we enjoy ourselves while they're left out."

"Huh… I hadn't thought of it that way before." Arthur kissed Arthur's cheek. "Okay then. No hands down pants or tongues down throats unless we're alone."

Arthur nodded. "Good. It'll make those times when we can get intimate all the more _personal_."

Alfred grinned as if he were hiding some cunning secret. "Sounds good to me. So, can we not do English for an hour and go fuck in the guest room down in the basement?"

Arthur simply nipped at Alfred's lips in response. He was then hoisted up in Alfred's arms. He wrapped his legs around his waist. They laughed as Alfred hurried off to the guest room.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: I had no idea how to end this, actually. So yay for a quick ending!

Day 1 of the Sweethearts Event.


	2. Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mask hides King Alfred's dance partner. (Off-shot of Gold and Blue.)  
> (For Day 2 of the Sweethearts Week event.)

King Alfred Jones was considered a good host, and always a great guest. He mingled with the crowd, cracked jokes, and complimented other guests on their outfits. Of course, this was before this particular ball. He sat off to the side with arms crossed and a rather cross expression. No one knew he was the King, though. His hair was slicked back and he wore a blue mask with purple jewels along the rim. Normally he would wear the traditional King's outfit to such a gala event, but because it was a masquerade and he was to remain anonymous, he just wore a royal blue coat with coattails and a black vest over a white dress shirt and black pants. He'd look like an attractive man to approach, had he not been sporting such an ugly facial expression.

The only one who knew Alfred's identity was Jack Yao Wang. His normal Asian-inspired outfits had been swapped for a more Western-style so as to blend in with the others. He, like all the others, wore a mask to hide his face too. His was a dark shade of purple with black and white jewels around the eyes. However, anyone who knew Yao knew that he never hid his long black hair. Tonight, it was down and not in its usual ponytail.

"Al-I mean, sir, why don't you join the rest?" Yao asked as he stood before the King. "Aren't you having fun?"

Alfred sighed tiredly. "I just… Tell me again why Duke Arthur couldn't come?"

"He had a lot of work to do," Yao replied with a casual shrug. "That's no reason to not have a good time. Arthur would want to you enjoy yourself."

Yao seemed a little strained to say something like that, but it worked. Alfred stood up.

"Yeah, he would. I can hear him now. 'Git yer lazy arse up, twit'!"

Even Yao had to laugh at his imitation of the Duke. "That's more like our King."

Alfred smirked as he straightened his lapels. "Thanks. Okay, let's get out there and dance!"

As if on cue, the band started to play a new song. Alfred marched up to a young lady, bowed, and offered his hand. He was then swept off to the dance floor.

Yao had to hand it to Arthur, much as didn't want to. The Duke had greatly helped Alfred's social anxiety. Yao had always tried to help the King to be more personable, but his insecurity with himself made it tough for any progress as Alfred never believed any encouragement that came from Yao. Sometimes, Yao admitted to himself, that as much as he was jealous of Arthur's close proximity to Alfred, he had become a positive influence on certain aspects of Alfred's personality.

Alfred was a good dancer. His late mother had made sure of that, having personally taught him when he was younger. The ladies he danced with were all pleased with his moves, and found his conversations delightful. He twirled them and dipped them, making them feel like princess, and they would leave with wide smiles and flushed cheeks. It spread around the room that Alfred brightened any fair lady's night.

If only Alfred shared the same sentiments. His mind was on only one man, and his heart ached to know just what Arthur was doing right now. Was he thinking of Alfred? Was he too busy to take care of himself? Was he sad he couldn't come?

After his last lady gave her curtsey to Alfred for the dance, a young man took Alfred's hand. "May I have this dance?" He had a thick British accent, much like Arthur's.

The man was slightly shorted than Alfred with messy blond hair. He wore a lavender jacket over a royal blue vest that sparkled with gold buttons, and long, brown boots matched tan pants. A white dress shirt was underneath and topped with a large white bow under his neck. On the crown of his head sat a small deep blue and purple top hat that perched precariously in an otherwise impossible angle. Hiding his face was a purple mask with blue jewels scattered across his nose and cheeks like freckles. This only served to enhance the intensity of his emerald eyes. His pink lips turned up into a smile.

"Well hi there," Alfred said, pleasantly surprised. He smiled knowingly. "Welcome to the masquerade ball. Are you having a good time so far?"

"I am now."

Alfred beamed. "So, might I ask who my dance partner is?"

"A Queen from a distant land," he replied.

"Really? A _Queen_ you say?" There was a twinkle to Alfred's eyes at hearing this. "Queen Arthur, huh? Has a nice ring to it."

Smiling, the Queen murmured, "I never said my name, sir."

Alfred tapped on his own nose. "Right. Sorry. Let's just keep dancing then."

"As you wish."

Alfred had never danced with Arthur before. It wasn't a surprise the man was skilled at it. Their eyes remained connected as they made their way around the dance floor, holding hands and grasping waists and squeezing shoulders. They danced through two more sets before Alfred pulled his partner close.

Leaning in so his lips teased his ears, Alfred whispered, "I'm so happy you came."

"It certainly took some time," the Queen replied softly. "But I'd hate to miss a chance to dance with you, my King."

Alfred breathed out a low laugh. "I wish I could kiss you right now. I don't care who sees us."

"My, my." The song came to a soft end. Alfred twirled his partner, their coats billowing out around them like dresses. When Alfred pulled for him to come back to his arms, the Queen refused. "I must go."

Alfred frowned. "But…you just got here."

"I have little time. I am sorry." The Queen slipped his fingers free from Alfred's hold.

Alfred tried to force a smile. "I'll see you soon."

The man nodded, and then weaved through the crowed until he vanished from Alfred's view. Alfred continued to stand in the same spot, watching the man's retreating back long after he was gone. There was a warm tingle to his fingertips; a residue of the man's presence embedded in his skin.

A hand touched Alfred's shoulder. He jerked in surprise, only to see Yao standing behind him. The Jack smiled hesitantly. "You seemed to have found someone you liked. Who was that?"

"Arthur," Alfred replied happily.

Yao started. "W-what? How?"

Alfred shrugged, much like Yao had earlier. "Dunno. Guess he made some time for me."

"But he's not on the guest list," Yao murmured to himself.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Yao smiled innocently. "You danced for so long. Would you like to drink?"

"Oh, yeah!" Alfred grinned and walked with Yao over to the nearest waiter to nab a glass of sparkling cider.

While he continued to enjoy the rest of his night, nothing compared to dancing with such a man, even if it was for the briefest of time.

* * *

Arthur made an appearance at the castle a few days later looking a little more tired than usual. He perked up upon seeing Alfred. The King pulled him a tight bear hug. They had escaped outside into the gardens where they were left to their own devices.

"It's so good to see you," Arthur said happily. "You're truly a sight for sore eyes."

"It hasn't been that long," Alfred laughed.

Arthur wiped his brow as the summer heat caused him to sweat. Alfred watched him, and licked his lips. "Yes, I suppose that's true. I've just been working so hard since Yao loaded me with so much work all of a sudden.

"Well, I appreciate you taking the time to come to the ball." Alfred kissed Arthur's cheek. "I enjoyed dancing with you.

Arthur shook his head with a cocked brow. "I wasn't at the ball."

"Nice try, but the game is over. I knew it was you the whole time." Alfred lay on the grass, putting his hands behind his head. He squint his eyes at the sunlight shining brightly in the clear skies. "It's after the ball. You can tell me."

Sighing, Arthur began to fan himself. "But Alfred, I'm honest. I wasn't there. You can ask anyone in my office. I was there all night as I had to ask many of them to work overtime with me."

Alfred sat up. "So…you're saying you weren't there?"

"Yes."

"But…that guy! He looked…just like you! Even sounded like you! Had the same eyes! He called himself a Queen from far away or something."

Arthur smirked playfully. "Are you cheating on me with my evil twin brother?" The look Alfred gave him caused Arthur to bark out a laugh. "I'm joking, darling. I don't have a twin, though my older brothers _are_ evil."

"Then who was it?!" Alfred shivered despite the warm air. "Oh my God, what if it was your doppelganger?!"

"Honestly, who would want to pretend to be _me_?"

"We're awfully close…"

"Yes, and he obviously did nothing to harm you. So he did it just to dance with you? Perhaps you have a stalker." Arthur was still laughing too much to notice or care that Alfred was disturbed to learn that the man he danced with for a half an hour wasn't actually his secret boyfriend.

Alfred looked down at his hands and recalled the feeling he had when he was holding the man's hands in his. They were warm, so real, and so _close_. Even Yao had seen him, so it wasn't a ghost or something he concocted in his head. Whoever this mystery person was, Alfred highly doubted he could forget him anytime soon.

The wind ruffled the large tree that enclosed the couple in their secret affair.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: Yay for another abrupt ending! Er, this connects to my story Gold and Blue, but is before the most recent chapter. It's shortly after Alfred's birthday, as well. Hope everyone enjoyed this!


	3. Taste (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two assumptions lead to a small fight in a pastry shop.  
> For day three of the Sweetheart's Week event at the usxuk community.

A young woman perused the glass counter, trying to decide which pastry to buy. They were arranged neatly, almost as if they were ready for a professional photo shoot. There were the usual croissants and beignets, but also éclairs, macarons, canelés, mille-feuille, and religieuse, all perfectly plump and shining with sugar. Any customer who passed by was enchanted by their sweet smell, and then came in to drool over the French treats. However, in one small corner of the display say a small lump of black pastries on a tiny plate. A sign in front of it read "Scones". Most customers left that alone.

The young woman hesitated at seeing the plate. Looking up at blond man behind the counter, she asked," Um, what is that?"

The man smiled widely. His name tag stated his name was Arthur. "Scones, ma'am. I made them just recently, so they're fresh."

"I…see. Did you make anything else?" she asked nervously.

When Arthur opened his mouth to answer, another, taller, blond man came from the back room. He was holding a tray of delicious smelling éclairs. "Nope, but I just made these!"

"I'll take two!" the woman exclaimed suddenly.

The second man beamed, and then grabbed two off of the tray with tongs. He bagged them and then rang the customer up. Arthur marched into the back angrily. His thick eyebrows made him seem all the more upset.

A third blond man was in the back, humming as he rolled a rolling pin over a pile of dough. The back room was a bright blue kitchen with shelves filled with dough, flour, chocolate, and sugar. Five large ovens commandeered an entire wall. In the center of the room was a large island counter where the three chefs prepared the pastries. A radio perched on a top shelf and played French music all day.

The three men wore different colored aprons. Arthur wore a soft green, the second man wore baby blue, and the third man had on plain white. His sleeves were rolled up, and his arms were coated in flour.

"Oh, hello Arthur," he said pleasantly. "Did Alfred steal another one of your customers?"

Arthur grabbed a lump of dough and began beating it into the counter. " _Yes_ , Francis," he hissed. "I swear that Yank pisses me off! Who does he think he is, coming in and smiling like some bloody movie star, and then makes fun of my cooking?!"

"I didn't make fun of your cooking." Alfred was at the door with his arms crossed. "Your food speaks for itself. It's not my fault so many people are turned off by it."

Arthur seethed at Alfred in replied. Francis simply laughed at their exchange. He washed his hands and arms. "Alfred, why don't you finish making these beignets while I go up front?"

"Sure thing!" Alfred moved to roll up his sleeves.

Arthur jaw dropped, and then he seized up in anger. "What? You honestly expect him to fry those properly? He's terrible!"

"I am not!"

"Nevertheless, that is why I am helping Alfred," France said as he dried his hands. "He is still in training. Therefore, I see no problem."

The chef left then. Arthur went back to pounding the flour, grumbling to himself. "That isn't _helping_. That's passing me right up. How insufferable, the lot of them…"

"You talking to your little 'fairy' friends again?" Alfred asked teasingly.

Arthur bristled. He hated the fact that Alfred got under his skin worse than chunks of dough under his nails. He was three years older than Alfred, and yet he would bicker with him as if he were five again. He was tougher than this. Growing up with three older brothers who teased him relentlessly made him develop thick skin. So then, what was it about this boy?

"No," was all Arthur could say, despite everything else he wanted to shout.

Alfred chuckled. "Sure."

There were quiet for a little while as they continued to work. The music flittered around the room. Arthur relaxed after a time, and even let his eyes drift up to look at Alfred. There was no use denying Alfred was an attractive young man. His charm even worked on perfectly straight men. He stood across from Arthur, rolling the dough in preparation. There was always this little smile on his face, as if he had some small secret he'd share with the pastries and sugar. It made Arthur a little jealous to see that smile constantly. It also made him wonder if a special someone in his life also got to see it.

"Are you thinking about your girlfriend?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Alfred looked up with bright eyes. His glasses accentuated his blue eyes. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Arthur was annoyed at this; or was he more annoyed because he was relieved at hearing this? "That's rather surprising given the kind of boy you are."

Alfred frowned. "And what kind of guy am I, Arthur?"

Arthur's face felt hot. He lowered his eyes back down to watch his hands. "Just…well. You are a handsome boy, so I'm amazed you haven't picked up any woman yet."

Alfred stopped what he was doing. Without even looking up, Arthur knew he had triggered something. "Well, sure, if I'm some jerk that does on looks alone. I guess I could pick up any girl I wanted. Do you think I'm shallow like you?"

"L-like me?" Arthur looked up, insulted. "How do you mean?"

"Well, you _obviously_ are sleeping with Francis. How else could you have gotten this job?" Arthur balled his hands until his knuckles went white. "I mean, hey, whatevs. Francis is a pretty hot guy. I guess you're okay too. And what you do in bed and with whoever is fine by me. It's not a big deal."

By now, Arthur's hands were shaking. His face was red from immense anger. Even Alfred, the clueless wonder, saw that he had crossed a line. Arthur grabbed a chunk of dough, and then flung it at Alfred with all his might. It hit the man right in his face, knocking his glasses off. He stumbled back in surprise.

"You. Ass. Hole." Arthur squared up for a fight or some kind of retaliation, but nothing came. He decided to launch into a full on assault. "You have no right to assume such things! Just because _you_ may not like me food does not mean I am so terrible that I need to fornicate with _Francis_ of all people! Here I was trying to be nice to you when you don't deserve it, and _this_ is what you come back at me with? What an incredibly low and vile thing to say!"

Arthur's words had frozen Alfred to where he stood. Francis appeared with a worried look on his face. "What is all this arguing?"

"Alfred thinks we're sleeping together!" Arthur snapped. "Fire him!"

Francis sniggered, which only served to make Arthur even more upset. "Alfred is not someone I could or would want to fire. I hired him for his looks to bring in more ladies."

"So…not for my baking skills?" Francis nodded. "But…then why is Arthur here?"

"Because he asked," Francis replied casually. "He is my cousin."

"C-cousin?" Alfred stuttered.

Arthur looked away with his arms crossed. "Yes, as much as I don't like to think on it, we are related."

"But, I am teaching you both. You, Alfred, put in too much sugar, and Arthur burns things. Both of you are just as bad at baking as the other. I pick no favorites as it is really just me who can bake."

"Isn't that a little…," Arthur started.

"Ah, but I must attend to the customers!" With that, Francis left with a wave.

Alfred and Arthur stared at each other with French music drifting between them once again. There was still dough on Arthur's face and Arthur's face was still a little red. Despite all of his silly bravado, Alfred became extremely shy as he wiped his face off and retrieved his glasses.

"I… I'm sorry. I didn't know…" Arthur watched him, curiously. "And I didn't know about me, either. Turn out…Francis is the shallow one. Man, I feel really stupid now."

"As you should be," Arthur started, feeling another round of comebacks surging within him. However, seeing Alfred's genuinely upset expression, he stopped. "But…thank you. I... It's not your fault you didn't know about me and Francis. While Francis is a…friend and I am in his debt for giving me this job, I still don't like others to know we're family."

"Well, you smell better than him." Arthur looked at Alfred with wide eyes at the same time Alfred realized what he had just said. "Er-I-um-ah! I don't smell you or anything! It's just I-you know! Um!"

Then, Arthur began to laugh. "That is certainly the strangest compliment I have ever received, but thank you. I suppose anyone would smell better than a frog."

"Y-yeah!" Alfred smiled, relieved. "Uh…and I mean what I said about it not being a big deal with whoever you are with. I… well I'm bi, so…"

Arthur looked surprised by this. He always thought the good ones were taken, fictional, or straight. But this changed everything. "I…see. Well… I um… I'm bi as well, so thank you, again."

Arthur pointedly looked away when Alfred smiled at this, as if hearing about Arthur's sexuality was some sort of good news to him. He didn't want his mind to travel down that road. He had put a stop to such thoughts months ago when Alfred first applied for a job here. In truth, he was the one who had pushed Francis to give him the job. Even if Alfred was taken or straight, as long as he was close to him, that was enough for Arthur.

But of course he'd never say such a thing to Alfred.

"Yeah? So, seeing as we're both unattached guys, um… You wanna get some coffee sometime?"

Arthur couldn't take much more emotional shock. First, they argued and he threw dough at the man's face, and now Alfred was possibly asking him out on a date?

His body acted on its own. "Y-yes… That sounds…"

"Sweet," Alfred finished for him.

"Yes."

* * *

* * *

_Hoshiko2_ 's cents: So this is kind of Zo One's fault as I had no idea what to do with this prompt, but I had to put in that Alfred thought Arthur was sleeping with Francis. Turns out, both of them thought the other was already taken. Such silly boys!

There is a second story to today's prompt. It is much more sad, so read with that caution in mind.


	4. Sour Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A message saved for later.  
> For day three of the Sweetheart's Week event at the usxuk community.

"Here we have the sleeping Arthur, in all his glory. Like always, his hair is a mess, he sleeps in next to nothing on top of the covers, and he's curled up in a little ball."

Arthur opened his eyes blearily, and then groaned in annoyance. "What are you doing?"

"Filming." Alfred moved his camera closer. He sat on the edge of the bed, and then leaned over. "You're so cute when you take cat naps."

Arthur buried his face in the crook of his arm. He let out another frustrated moan which made Alfred laugh. Alfred stroked Arthur's hair.

"I'm making you lunch." Arthur made a noise of acknowledgement. "Your favorite."

"Thank you," Arthur murmured.

Alfred put the camera on the bed, pointing it at Arthur's face. The majority of the man's face was covered by his arm. His chin and lips were the most visible. He began to breathe deeply and evenly. Alfred kissed his head one more time before he left. The camera continued to record.

After a time, Arthur opened his eyes. He lifted his head to check for Alfred, and then nestled his head back down under his arm. His bright green eyes focused on the camera.

"Hello darling. You think I'm asleep and I hope you don't see this until after I'm gone. I'm hoping that's why you're recording; to remember everything I do. I…I want you to see _this_ , and not of me sleeping. You'll be seeing that all too soon… I think you know you will too. You took the news of my AIDS rather well… You're so sweet… So… loving and warm. Please don't stop loving after I'm gone. You deserve happiness…

"We've never had sex and I'm fine with that. I don't need it. You make love to me in hundreds of different ways every day. I'm sorry I'm so tired all the time and that I eat so little. I'm sorry I still get angry even after I had promised I would stop. I'm sorry I make you go with me to get treatment. I'm sorry you have to watch me get smaller and weaker.

"But please know that I did not go in pain. How can I when you've been so wonderful all this time?"

Arthur hesitated a moment to take a deep breath.

"Soon…you won't see my eyes anymore. They'll be closed forever. I'm going to keep them open as long as I can for you."

Arthur stared at the camera with a small smile. The green in his eyes were bright as they focused solely on the lens. Then, a tear trickled out. His smile grew wider as another dribbled down across his nose and fell onto the bed.

"Do you remember when we met?" Arthur's voice was soft, but still strong. "I loved you from that very moment. So beautiful and pure. I'm sorry I have to ruin a part of your life, but… that's all I am to be. Just one part. …Because you will go on in life. You will find someone and you'll be happy again. You'll tell them of this gussy Englishman you dated and think fondly of me, but don't hide how I died. Tell them I was happy. Tell them you made me feel loved. And remember… I love you…"

Arthur closed his eyes. More tears slipped out, but he continued to smile. "You're coming back now, so I'll say this here. Good-bye my darling, my best friend, my sweetheart."

Arthur pretended to be asleep again. Then, Alfred was heard coming back into the room. He touched Arthur's cheek affectionately.

"Babe, are you crying?" Alfred moved the camera aside to collect Arthur into his arms.

"It's nothing. I'm fine. Did you finish cooking?"

"Yeah… Are you sure you're okay…?"

"Positive." Arthur showed a smile. Alfred smiled back tentatively, and then leaned in to capture Arthur's lips with his. "Come now, turn off that stupid camera and let's go eat."

Alfred chuckled. He rubbed his nose against Arthur's, and then reached for his camera.

_Click._

* * *

* * *

_Hoshiko2_ 's cents: …I'm not sure where this story came from, but I cried while writing it. Sorry.


	5. Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred's favorite color is green and Arthur's is blue. (M rated for sex and drug use)  
> (For day four of Sweethearts Week event.)

When Alfred woke up, he saw green. He smiled at the familiar color as it graced his everyday life. Before he'd have said his favorite color was red or blue, but now it was green; specifically Arthur's eye color green. He could seek them out in a crowd, spotting them a good distance away, and they'd always bring a smile to his face.

Arthur's favorite color used to be red, but now it was that unusual shade of blue that twinkled in Alfred's eyes. They darkened and brightened depending on his mood, but more often than not, they were a brilliant shade that captivated everyone who looked at him. What was it about that particular color that drove Arthur wild?

He often found himself staring at Alfred even when he wasn't awake. It was the memory of his eyes combined with his smile that pulled him in. And he silently begged Alfred to never let him go.

"Good morning, darling," Arthur purred. He watched as Alfred stretched and yawned.

The morning sun was bright and warm, illuminating Alfred's skin. Arthur wasn't ashamed to stare at Alfred, and he was caught many times doing so. When in public he knew to keep it hidden that they were lovers of five years, but when private, he was quite open about his attraction to the man. It was those blasted eyes that

" 'Mornin'." Alfred rolled over to kiss Arthur. "Did you have any dreams?"

"Yes. It involved you." Alfred smirked, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, yes. It was _that_ kind of dream."

"Oo, baby." Alfred grasped Arthur's hips to pull them flush together. He grinned when he felt Arthur's morning erection press against his inner thigh. "Wanna show me how it went?"

Arthur chuckled. "Perhaps… but I would rather we do this outside."

Alfred furrowed his brow. "Out…outside?"

"Yes, where I can see your eyes with the blue skies above me as I lie on my back."

Alfred licked his lips. "Yeah? Well, what if I want you in me?"

"Then you shall just have to ride me," Arthur said, emphasizing his point by grinding his groin up into Alfred's.

Alfred moaned in compliance. "Then, what're we waiting for?" Alfred panted, licking his lips again. "We have such a large backyard. Let's go there."

"Not before we get high," Arthur suggested.

"Now?" Alfred asked. He got up off of Arthur.

"Yes. It'll be perfect. How else can I drown in colors if I'm not out of my mind?" Arthur was laughing at himself as Alfred fetched their bong off their dresser.

Alfred returned to the bed and passed it over to Arthur. He shrugged. "Hey, works for me."

When Alfred was young, he had his heart set on owning the house at the top of the hill in his hometown. It was a nice Victorian with a wrap-around porch and classic architecture. But he also wanted it for the large backyard. The original owners boasted about how they protected so much of the forest from the housing development, and now they held the only remains of the forest in the town.

Alfred never got the house, but he got the one behind it on the other side of the hill at the very base of the forest. The forest thinned out just before it reached their house's fence. He and Arthur would ask sometimes if they could walk through the forest or even hold a few parties in the thinner parts of the forest where the ground was flat. Usually, the owners would agree. However, today, they doubted they could call the old owners up and explain how they wanted to have sex in their backyard.

So, this was one of the few times they didn't ask permission.

Alfred and Arthur's backyard was a disgrace in comparison to the forest just beyond their fence. While they had never been caught strolling through the forest before, that didn't mean they didn't take extreme precaution when walking around. Today, especially, they would be extra careful. It was one thing to be caught walking on someone else's premises, but it was something else entirely to be found doing the dirty in someone else's backyard when you didn't ask permission.

They unhooked the chain that was the gate between the two yards, and then crept out into the forest holding hands. Arthur took the lead as his need was growing more and more urgent the longer he kept Alfred's body off of him. Alfred was giddy behind him. He was constantly snickering into his hands.

"Will you stop _that_?" Arthur hissed.

"I can't help it!" Alfred exclaimed, although he was still giggling to himself. "It's like we're doing something naughty."

"We are, technically."

"No, like, we're breaking the law or something."

"Well… I mean, if we're caught they _could_ call the police on us."

"No, but- oh never mind. Are we there yet?"

Arthur sighed heavily. _There_ was a small meadow at the base of the hill. The owner's children wanted a tree house when they were young, so they chopped down just a few trees to make it for them. No trees ever grew there again, so the owners planted some grass and flowers to make the spot look attractive somehow for those who did wander across their property. Alfred and Arthur liked to hold their summer parties there every year. The owners were always invited, and oftentimes they would leave up the decorations from the party like the tables and chairs.

Of course, Arthur would have nothing to do with those. He wanted to lie on the grass and stare up at Alfred and drown in the sky and his eyes.

Together they walked into the clearing. The sun was brighter here, and it was like an entirely different world. Maybe if they stayed here long enough they could be engulfed in this feeling, and be stripped of the restraints of time and responsibilities. They could savor the blues and greens in their worlds; each other.

Alfred tugged on Arthur's hand to get the other man's attention. He turned, and then was wrapped up in Alfred's arms as he was kissed hard on the lips. Alfred was deliberately quick in taking Arthur's pajamas off, which really consisted of a thin shirt and even thinner shorts. Arthur was grateful for this. He shimmed out of his shorts as his hands ran to remove Alfred's boxers; the only clothing on Alfred, actually. While he certainly enjoyed Alfred's eyes, there was no use denying that Alfred's broad shoulders and sculpted chest was a major turn-on to the Englishman either. He licked a trail up his collarbone to his ear. Alfred hummed his appreciation.

Alfred's lips trailed down Arthur's cheeks until they settled on a random spot on his neck. There, he sucked until Arthur's skin was bright red. Arthur breathed Alfred's name. His nails dug into Alfred's skin. Arthur pushed a knee into Alfred's groin.

"Oh Arthur…," Alfred murmured against Arthur's skin. His breath was hot compared to the morning chill. "Baby, let's lie down."

Arthur nodded. They released each other momentarily to lie on the grass. Arthur hooked his arms under Alfred's armpits to pull him flush on his chest. Alfred's tongue licked Arthur's cheek before delving into his mouth. Arthur moaned as he bucked up against Alfred. Then, he grasped both of their hard cocks. Alfred gasped sharply.

"Arthur… Did you…bring lube…?" Alfred panted.

Arthur nodded over to his discarded shorts lying not far from them. Sticking out from the pocket was the top of a small bottle of nearly empty lube. Arthur looked up at the sky with a seemingly drunken expression.

"Oh… oh yes…!" he gasped. Alfred reached for the lube. "It's like you're…all around me! Like you are the heavens themselves!"

Alfred grinned, having retrieved the bottle. He opened it and squirted a large blob into his hand. "So that's what you think of me?" He didn't bother to warm it up as he reached back to finger himself. He hissed at the sudden, sharp pain, but then focused on Arthur's green eyes instead. "I…I had no idea…"

Arthur chuckled. He leaned up to pepper Alfred's neck with open-mouthed kisses. "Yes… Your eyes are like the sky to me. So vast… So wide and open…" He caressed Alfred's face with his free hand. "So beautiful…"

Alfred's flushed face grew even redder. He pushed in a second finger hurriedly. "Oh baby… Arthur… Your eyes are like the grass… Like the Earth…"

"I can see the sky with you…!"

"Yes!" Alfred hastily finished his preparation, unable to put in a third finger. His head whirled at the prospect of having Arthur in him, all around him, pushing up deep within him and calling him and… "Oh Arthur! Get inside me, _please_."

Arthur released Alfred and moved his hands to settle on the man's hips. After Alfred pulled out his fingers, he sighed and settled just over Arthur's hard-on. They looked past each other to the grass and the sky; to the greens and blues. Slowly, Arthur pushed himself up inside of Alfred, pulling his body down and leading him to the most comfortable position for the man. Alfred's breath hitched and his head ducked down at the penetration.

"Ah…" his voice wobbled in pleasure. He clenched his eyes closed.

"Darling," Arthur whispered. He reached a hand up to cradle Alfred's face. "Open your eyes. I want t see…the sky…"

Alfred squint his eyes open, looking into Arthur's. He managed a smile as they waited for him to adjust to having Arthur inside him. Arthur ran his hands up Alfred's body to tease his nipples. Alfred's head lifted some. He wasn't able to watch as Arthur toyed with his body. He'd rather continue to stare into his eyes and become lost in everything the man was.

"Arthur… I'm ready…"

Arthur nodded. He dropped his hands back to Alfred's hips and gently helped him lift up and then back down. Alfred's head fell back as his mouth opened. He let out soft moans and the occasional call of Arthur's name, but for the most part, he was quiet. They tried to find a suitable rhythm that would satisfy their cravings for one another, but nothing seemed to work. Arthur just wanted to overload in Alfred. It didn't help that his high made his body all the more alert to seemingly everything about the man. However, there was still something off- the blue.

"Alfred… I want to see your eyes. Please," Arthur pleaded. Normally, he'd hate to sound so pathetic, but not right now. Not when Alfred was so close and the sky was over him.

Alfred tilted his head back down to look at Arthur. He bit his lower lip to muffle the groans. It drove him mad to have Arthur hot and thick and deep inside of him, pushing and pulling and still being in control despite being on his back. The wind rustled the trees, bringing a small bit of respite to their heated chests and backs. Arthur turned just so, and _there it was_.

"A-ah! Arthur!" Alfred shouted. He put a hand over his mouth.

Arthur smiled. "It seems I've found a spot you like… Yes?"

Arthur slipped a hand free from Alfred's hip to grasp Alfred's neglected cock. He pumped it in tandem with his thrusts. Alfred's eyes were just small slits by now as he wanted desperately to throw his head back and call out Arthur's name until the sun set and they were spent.

Arthur watched Alfred. He felt powerful and pure all at once. Alfred was the heavens and he was the ground and together they moved in sync as if this was how it was to always be.

But it wasn't enough.

Sitting up, Arthur caught Alfred's mouth with his lips. He pulled out enough to not hurt Alfred, and then, cradling his head, lay the man back on the grass. "There… Now I can love you properly…"

"But I want to…see the Earth…," Alfred gasped. He watched as Arthur took his legs and propped them up to drape over his shoulders.

"You can, my dear." Arthur pressed himself back into Alfred as he ran a comforting hand down his face. "Your eyes reflect the sky above me, and mine can reflect the ground beneath you."

"Oh…! Oh God, Arthur!" Alfred's hands reached up to grab at the grass. He clawed at the ground as Arthur's thrusts became faster, and he pushed in deeper and harder against his prostate. "Yes! Oh!"

Arthur smiled to himself. "And the Heavens cried out…"

"What?" Alfred heaved.

"Nothing, my sweet." Arthur leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Then, he sat back to finish riding him out. He continued to hold Alfred's legs up and stare down at him, even though Alfred had long ago closed his eyes to submerge himself into the overwhelming feeling of his climax.

He came over his chest and with a loud cry that probably startled the nearby birds. Arthur, however, wasn't finished. He leaned over Alfred and pushed in with all his might. Grunting Alfred's name and imagining the sky opened up behind him, he came.

Alfred pulled Arthur to lie down on his chest with his head resting over his head. His fingers stroked through his hair as they remained quiet to catch their breaths. Arthur turned his head just so and saw the sky. Under him, he could feel Alfred had done the same to look at the grass.

After a time, Alfred spoke. "You know…we kind of _are_ like Heaven and Earth…"

"Hm… Yes, you do have your head in the clouds a lot."

Alfred chuckled. The rumbling under Arthur's ears made the man smile. "Yeah and you're a pretty grounded guy… But you're a bit of an airhead too. I catch you daydreaming every so often."

Arthur lifted his head to smile down at Alfred. "Yes, and you can be serious sometimes too."

"I like that… Heaven and Earth fucking. That works for me."

"Do you have to make it sound so dirty?" Arthur asked trying to look disgusted, but really, he was just grinning.

"Yes." Alfred kissed Arthur's nose. Then, he looked around warily. "Um…maybe we should go…? I don't wanna get caught."

"Yes, let's." Arthur scrambled to get up and collect his clothes.

They didn't even bother to get dressed as they ran back, holding hands. They rushed inside, locked the gate, and crawled back into bed. They had a few more smokes of their pot before they fell into bed laughing and continuing to stare longingly into each other's eyes.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: Erm. Yes. I wrote smut. Originally they weren't going to get high, but then AkaiShinda suggested it and I thought it worked well considering they were all talking about colors and shit.


	6. Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 100 year old flowers, saved all this time.  
> (For day five of the Sweethearts Week Event.)

"Alfred?! Alfred?!" A young African woman in a blue dress with an apron lying on the front and a cream colored bonnet on her head, hiding her brown hair, rushed down along the banks of the town. The people knew her, and gave her sympathetic looks as she continued to search for America, only she knew him by the name of Alfred. "Oh dear, he's going to get hurt one day. I just know it. And then, Master Arthur will be cross with me. Why can't that boy just stay home?"

Normally, America was a good child. He had manners, cleaned up after himself, listened to his elders, and tried to help everyone. However, when the ships came in from England, the boy was uncontrollable. Often times he'd rush down to the docks before the sun rose, or he'd barrel through his morning chores if it mean getting down to the shore that much faster.

Today was one of the days America left before dawn. It sent all of the servants into a fit as they spread out to look for their charge. Their first spot was, of course, the docks.

Large wooden ships bobbed patiently in their ports. Their white sails had been tied up for the moment like horses put back into their stables, waiting for that moment to let loose and run wild across the skies. Men with wheelbarrows and heavy boxes rushed from the ship to the docks, where more men waited to haul the supplies into town. They general arrived every two to three months, and stated for a few days. Then, they restocked with the trade destined for England, or one of the other colonies. Those brave enough to take the voyage across the Atlantic to grow new roots in the British American colonies were always welcomed by America personally.

It was nice, but he was really there to look for a young man with blond hair and a stern expression. If he hadn't come in, then America would go down to the beach front to hide his sorrow.

That was where the woman found Alfred. He was curled up in a ball, watching the waves as he sat on the sand. A small rabbit and two squirrels sat by his side as if they were his pets. It was an uncanny sight, and many servants claimed he even talked to the creatures, but America never seemed afraid or put off by them. Most of the time, the animals came up right to him, and he would pet or feed them as if it were entirely natural.

"Alfred!" The animals scampered off. America looked over to the lady, and then smiled. "Oh thank goodness you're okay! If something should happen to you-!"

"I'm fine." America stood up, dusting off his knee-high pants and straightening his shirt and vest. He only dressed properly on the days he thought England would come in. Normally he was dirty and had scraps and dirt all along his knees and elbows and face. "I apologize for leaving before my chores, Martha. I was _so_ certain Arthur would be here today."

Martha sighed. "It's quite all right. We should get you home so you can eat."

America nodded, but then his smile fell away. He looked out at the ocean in hopes of getting an answer for a question he was to ask. "Martha… Do you think…he forgot about me?"

"Lord, no. How could he?" Martha took America into her arms. Usually, the boy was very strong willed, choosing to show emotions only in front of England. On the rare occasions he finally acted the age he looked, Martha loved to treat him like her own son. "Oh, oh, sh. There, there child. You know the master is just busy. He always comes back."

"No, he forgot me," Alfred mumbled pitifully. He pushed his face into Martha's shoulder. Tiny, weak sobs pierced the air despite being muffled in her clothes.

Martha was quiet for a moment as she thought of what to say. Then, she smiled. "Why don't we send a package to Master Arthur? That'll make him race back here!"

"A package?" America lifted his head. Tears had created tracks down the boy's pink, cherub face. "What will we put in it?"

"Things from here that you know he'd like or that he misses."

"Like… how about an apple pie?! I could bake him one!" Alfred's eyes glimmered at the idea.

"Ah, let's try something that won't spoil," Martha suggested. "Do you know things the master likes?"

"Um… I know his favorite flowers. But we can send those."

"Sure we can." Martha shifted Alfred in her arms. "I'll show you how to press them."

* * *

America looked up at the burly man seriously. He was gripping his box tightly as he held it to his side like his life depended on it. The man smelled of fish and foreign lands. His muscles were as large as America's torso, and he had more hair on his arms than the boy had on his head. Still, Alfred stared at him, as if he were judging him. Martha watched warily from behind America.

Then, America thrust the box out. "Can you deliver this for me?"

The man raised an eyebrow. He looked at Martha to see if the boy was serious. She simply nodded.

"Excuse me! Can you deliver this? It's very important. Someone special is going to get it in England. I need to make sure it gets there." America was still holding up the box.

The man frowned. "You know I don't personally…" He trailed off when he noticed Martha shaking her head quickly with wide eyes. "…Personally think there's anyone better suited to deliver this."

America smiled widely. He handed over the box. The large man smiled in returned, and then tucked it securely under his arm. America watched him leave. He and Martha waited until the ship had long since unfurled its sails and headed back to the sea.

America skipped home, singing with Martha all the way. His excitement was contagious as Martha, too, was smiling broadly.

"Arthur's coming! We're going to have a lot of fun! Well, we won't eat well for a while, but that's fine! We will read together and sing and go on walks and he will bring tea and sugar, and it will be joyous!"

Martha laughed. "You are always so eager to see the master. What is it about him that makes you love him so?"

America looked up at the sky fondly. "I cannot explain. I just do. You'll understand when you're older."

"I-I beg your pardon? Child, I am much older than you."

America only laughed.

It would be decades later that America would dream up that memory. He was only rudely awoken by banging on his hotel room door. This only prompted him to put pillows over his head in an attempt to drown the noise out.

"Oi! America! Open up!" England's voice boomed on the other side of the door. "You're going to be late!"

America lifted his head with a loud groan. He shouted back, "Five more minutes!", and then collapsed into the pillows.

"America, so help me, I _will_ break down this door!" England sounded serious.

America hugged as he got up. England, thankfully, had stopped knocking by now. After shuffling to the door, America opened it. The light temporarily blinded him. Eventually, England's body faded into view. He wasn't happy as he stood with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

"Why are you here?" America grumbled.

"As host nation, it is my duty to ensure all of those involved attend the meeting. That includes _you_." England gave America one over, and then averted his eyes. America never wore a shirt to bed, and today was no exception. "You look a right mess."

"Thanks." America yawned.

England blanched. "You also need to brush your teeth."

"Well excuse me, Your Highness. I _just_ got up!"

"Nevertheless, you had best get ready." England tried to make it a point to look away from America's chest. "I'll be back in ten minutes. If you're not ready…"

"Yeah, yeah! Sheesh, what has your panties in such a twist?" America asked. He made it a point to look at England with an impressed expression. "You really expect me to be ready in time?"

"Yes, I hope so." England looked away with pink dusting his cheeks. It seemed he realized America was staring. "Just-! Be ready, idiot!"

Then, he stormed off. America smiled as he watched England leave. He hardly hid the fact he was flirting anymore, but given he had yet to actually come out and say his affections, England remained cold to him. Ever since America was a child, the nation had been this way. It made it a little frustrating for America who wanted to prove himself to the man he cared for, but he didn't give up. He was waiting for the day England realized it, or at least stopped pretending he didn't know.

Then minutes later and America was ready. He had made sure to use up all of the time he had to ensure he wouldn't be bored waiting for his return. When England arrived, he was unimpressed. They walked together down the hallway to the elevators, but ran into Hungary. She was carrying a large bouquet of roses.

"Oh! Excuse me!" She smiled at the two men. "I'll be at the meeting on time, England. I promise."

England nodded. He smiled at the flowers. America watched him closely. "Where are you going with those? They're lovely."

Hungary, too, smiled at her bouquet. "Isn't it sweet? Austria gave them to me for my birthday."

"Ah, Happy Birthday!" America exclaimed.

Hungary giggled. "Thank you."

"But…isn't it a bit lame for him to just get you roses?" America asked.

"Not at all." Hungary looked at the roses affectionately. She touched the petals tenderly. "Flowers have their own language. Red roses mean love, and to give them to someone special means you love them."

"Hm… I remember hearing something like that from when I was a kid," America said. England was the one watching him closely now. "But I thought it was all a lie since the one I gave the roses to never returned anything."

"Oh, you poor dear," Hungary said with a frown.

"In any case, we should get going." England nodded to Hungary, and then headed for the elevators.

"Uh, yeah." America smiled and waved good-bye. "See ya soon!"

The duration of the meeting left America reminiscing about the old boxes of pressed flowers. Martha, sweet as she was, always promised "Alfred" that "Arthur" would return. He never could during her lifetime. In that duration, America aged physically one year. She stopped asking how this was possible after the fifteenth year of her service.

When he sent off a box, he always made the deliveryman promise he would personally deliver it to England. And when nothing came back to him, he imagined that it was because someone tossed the box over the side of the boat, or that they just failed to deliver it. It made him cry at nights to think that they had been left somewhere or that they sunk to the bottom of the ocean, abandoned, like America's feelings for England.

Looking over at England, America was shocked to find the nation staring back at him, deep in thought. When he was caught, though, England blushed and looked to pick a fight with France next to him. The two began to argue like normal. America wondered if he had imagined it all up.

* * *

America went to visit England at his house after the meeting. He reminded himself that it was business, and not personal. Their noses wanted them to talk for a while about private information only the two nations shared. America would have to remind himself that he'd keep his flirting on the down low today, although he still thought about that _look_ England had given him during the meeting. He had been unable to shake it all day.

England answered the door looking none too pleased about the situation. Sighing, he opened the door to allow America inside. "I expect this will be long, so I brewed you some coffee."

"Thanks!" America pat England on the shoulder and grinned.

"Yes, well, let's get-" America yawned suddenly. England frowned in offense. "Am I _that_ boring?"

"No! Sorry!" America rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't sleep well last night. Some coffee will wake me right up."

England studied him for a moment. Then, his expression softened. "I guess it can't be helped. Why don't you rest, then? There's no use discussing anything heavy if you're tired. The guest room is down the hall."

America smiled gently. He hadn't expected such kindness so suddenly. "Thank you. I'll try to keep it a short nap."

"It's no trouble." England offered a smile. "Now, go alone."

America headed down the hallway and into the second bedroom. It was a plain room with a small bookshelf, an armoire, and a small bed, all the same dark wood color. The room looked hardly used, and yet it was quite clean. America smiled to himself as he thought about how England still kept a room tidy despite never using it.

Climbing into bed, America was relieved to notice the mattress was soft. He took off his glasses and then pressed his face into the plum pillows. He expected sleep to come soon enough, but it didn't. He tossed and turned, and yet sleep evaded him.

"Oh God, I'm too tired to sleep! This sucks!" America punched a pillow. "Why did I have to have that stupid dream?!"

He looked around the room for something that could help, but all he saw were some old books in the bookshelf. America liked to read, but he normally only did so on plane rides or road trips. The books' covers looked frail, and knowing England, if something happened to them, he'd blame America even if he didn't do anything. However, it was his only option. His phone had died hours ago.

"Man, what stuffy choices… Leave it to England…" America skimmed the spines of the books, but nothing jumped out at him. "Okay, I'll just pick one. Maybe it'll be so boring it'll knock me right out."

He pulled out a red book, and then carried it with him to bed. Upon opening it, however, three pressed roses fell out from the pages into America's lap. Gasping, America gingerly picked them up. Their petals looked exactly the same from when he had last seen them over 100 years ago.

America rushed back to the other books. He opened them one by one. All of them contained preserved flowers that he had sent all those years ago with so much hope and promise they'd reach their destination. He never knew they actually had.

"He kept them…," America murmured. He felt a surge rile its way up his body.

Quickly, he ran from the room to seek out England. The nation was just sitting down to tea in the kitchen. America stormed the room and slapped down the book onto the table, effectively startling the man.

"What the hell is this?!" he demanded.

England gasped in horror at having been found out. "Oh! Oh I! Oh… Dear, I hadn't meant for you to…"

"To what?! Find out?! All this time and I thought…! Damnit England, you really piss me off!" America sat in the chair directly across from England. He looked angry as he crossed his arms and stared at the wooden tabletop, but his eyes were full of sorrow and pain.

"Oh, America… I'm sorry…" England was too sincere. It hurt America.

"Don't! Just… why…? Why did you never write back…? Why didn't you come…? I waited…"

England was silent. Birds from outside, passing cars, and the grandfather clock in the living room were louder than their breathing. America had waited so long for these answers. This was solid proof that some of his feelings actually had been heard after all this time. It ached and almost boiled over in impatience to finally hear the reasons, but America remained strong.

"I'm sorry," England started with a soft voice. "I wanted to come back. I wanted to send letters and flowers back… I just…never did. There is no reason or explanation. I just didn't. I'm sorry America."

"I was so lonely."

"I'm sorry."

"I waited."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that!" America shouted, startling himself and England.

"What should I say? That I am ashamed? That I feel regret and guilt? Is that what you've wanted to hear all these years?!"

_No._

"I can't take it back!" England was crying now, but still struggling to get out what he wanted to say. "I can't erase that loneliness I put on you! I kept all the letters and flowers, but hid them in a room I avoid to not remember what I didn't do. When you were young and expected to come visit, I made up that room. It was to be yours. But you never came. I'm…I'm so sorry…!"

America continued to sit there, pathetically watching as England sobbed into his hands and apologized until he was muttering nonsense. Part of him wanted to demand more answers to childish questions, but his other part-the louder part- held him at bay. This isn't what he wanted. All those lonely nights, waiting, he never wished to upset England so that he could understand his childish questions that haunted him. He didn't look up at the stars and yearn for that. Instead, he dreamt of warm arms, a comforting voice, and tender smiles that promised the world.

"Stay here," America said suddenly.

He then got up and walked out of the house. He walked like a man on a mission.

A short while later he came charging back up to England's house. He rapped on the door, and then waited. England was still inside. Good. America feared briefly that the nation might run out looking for him, afraid that he had left him.

England opened the door with red, puffy eyes and a flushed face. Had he been crying the entire time America was gone?

"A-America?"

The nation was standing on his front stoop with a bouquet of roses. He was frowning with a red, heavy face, but he held the flowers with such conviction. Then, he thrust them out, much like he did when he was a child entrusting these strangers to deliver the same flowers.

"Here." England was surprised and took a step back. He continued to stare at the roses. They were as beautiful as the ones Hungary had received. "I wanted to make sure they were actually delivered finally. You don't…have to keep these ones once they die. I know you got them now."

England stared for a moment longer before he started to cry. But, there was a small smile. He gathered the roses into his arms and smelled them. "Oh, these are the loveliest roses I have ever seen. I imagine I will press these and keep them in my room. Thank you…"

America was still frowning. He felt like a child all over again. Maybe, sometimes England was right. Maybe he still _was_ a little kid in an adult's body. He never liked to let that shine through too often when he was trying to be taken seriously, but there were some times when he couldn't help but want to be that little colony who waited on the seashore, watching the horizon, and running to the docks to leap into the arms of his beloved England.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: They are so sappy, it _hurts_ sometimes.

Um, since I didn't give you all a warning the last time for the sudden sad story, I'll give you on now. The next chapter will be sad. And long. Urg.


	7. Sense

Arthur's ears were tuned into a soft humming sound that would signal an incoming e-mail. No matter what he was doing, he would stop to answer it. He'd touch the screen's monitor and tap on the blinking icon for the attachment on the mail. The sender was always the same and he always sent a video. He'd move the video out from the screen to hover in the air before him. Then, it would start to play.

"Hey sweetie!" A blond man with sky blue eyes hidden behind glasses would appear on the screen. He was always smiling. It was always the same. "How's the weather today? Weather here is good. Captain is only slightly worried about an electrical storm that might be passing by us, but I wouldn't worry about it. So, let's see… Um… I got to walk around outside today! That was fun! I know I said I did that last e-mail, but I do three e-mails every day and space them out to be once a day for you. Does that make sense? Well, anyway, I named a star after you. Tonight when I sleep, I'll say good night to it and think it was you, so listen hard for my voice, okay?"

He was so close, and so real. It was almost as if Arthur could touch him. Every time he did, though, the feed would interrupt, reminding him that this man was millions of miles away in space. And every reminder was another nail jabbing into his heart.

"Okay, adjusting for time difference… it's our anniversary today, right?"

Arthur smiled and closed his eyes. "Wrong."

"I think I'll go out and catch you a meteor. Would you like that?"

Arthur chuckled. "No, darling."

"Hm, I wonder how I'll get them to you. I can't mail it or hurl it back towards you. Well, I could try. In four years, if you see a shooting star, that's your present. Sorry I missed."

"Oh, Alfred," Arthur said fondly, even though Alfred would never hear him say it. How he wanted to touch the screen. "You're such an idiot. I'll be thirty-five by the time it gets here… How will I remember?"

Alfred couldn't reply. He never could.

Alfred had been gone for four years before Arthur finally heard from his husband. To him, it had only been a year. It took that long for mail to reach Earth. Now, Alfred sent mail daily, but he didn't know what had happened to Arthur during that time. Arthur never replied because it would take too long to hear any of Alfred's answers.

Arthur was four years older, and Alfred still looked as young as the day he left. Arthur didn't understand the astrophysics behind all of this, but he knew that where it was one year for Alfred, it was four for him. Out there, in space, the stars got to see the beauty of his husband, still fresh in his youth.

Every day, Arthur listened for the hum of that e-mail. His days revolved around it. Even though he could wait to open them later, he still wanted to hear them right away. Alfred would never know, but Arthur would, and that made all the difference.

It was as if Arthur was losing all of his other senses, focusing on just sight and sound to see and hear Alfred.

He hadn't felt the need or want to touch anyone. Why would he? He gave his heart to the stars long ago.

They were fifteen. Fifteen, stupid, young, and in love. They ran away together to find a better life. Alfred thought it had become too hard to live on Earth, so he looked to the skies. Arthur promised he would wait.

Alfred would be twenty-seven before he was assigned to the three-year mission (eight years for Earth time) that took him to a far corner of the solar system. Alfred promised he'd remember Arthur and everything they loved.

They enjoyed when it rained. Alfred would become cat-like, and curl up in Arthurs's lap. He'd silently demand his attention. He always had. Arthur never minded.

While the world rejected him, Alfred accepted every bit of this imperfect man.

Year Five was when Arthur received bad news.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I have to prolong my time here."

It was a year later that Arthur broke that promise. He had forgotten how to hear and see.

The e-mails still came every day, without fail, but Alfred never aged. He still smiled.

He didn't know what was happening at home.

Arthur finally sent him a reply. He would not see Alfred's response for four years.

There came that response in Year Ten. He wasn't smiling. He looked ready to cry.

"I don't… I don't understand… We made a promise… You said you love me and that you would always be with me. So… then why do you want to divorce? Why? Sweetie, I know I'm in space, but… I say good-night to you, I blow kisses to you, and I say hello to you every morning with an e-mail. You never talk to me. What made you stop trying?"

Alfred didn't know that Arthur's lover slept in his bed, wore his robe, and fucked Arthur in his house. He didn't know that Arthur stopped wearing his wedding band. He didn't know Arthur forgot so much.

In Year Eleven, Arthur was hit in the face. He had to tell his lover that he couldn't marry him. Alfred never signed the papers.

One morning, Arthur woke up to no e-mail. He cried and worried. And realized that he was still waiting. He sent off an e-mail to Alfred at once. His lover left.

"I'd rather wait to feel, than to never feel again," Arthur said.

Alfred would be home before the letter arrived for him.

In the final year, Arthur panicked. Alfred still hadn't sent him any e-mails. What if Alfred never came home? There hadn't been any news reports of anything happening to the space program, so Alfred should be physically safe.

Arthur continued to send e-mails in the hope Alfred would get them early. The man would be so much younger now.

They used to be only months apart, but now they were nine years.

What would Alfred say to seeing a forty-year old man he had forgotten about? Did he too forget the rain, preferring to hiding from it than to run in it or to listen to it or to see it? Did he forget Arthur's eyes or his smell; tea and fresh-cut grass? Did he forget how warmth felt?

Because if he didn't, and he remembered it all vividly, then he'd have to teach Arthur all o that again. It had all slipped away. There was nothing he sought out anymore. He was just a bitter, old man.

The day came for when Alfred was to arrive home. Arthur was given a pass into the receiving room where the other families were to wait for their loved ones returning home. Arthur was scared to go. They were loving families that had children, now twelve years older, and wives that were loyal. And then there was him.

But he went. He had made a promise.

And there was Alfred. It took him too long to walk down that runway. Twelve years ago, Arthur had watched him walk away, thinking he'd be so happy to see him on his return walk in. But he wasn't. He didn't dash into his arms with tears. He didn't scream his name or fall to the floor in happiness. Rather, he sagged where he stood feeling old and brittle.

Alfred was gloriously young. He was beautiful. And he was shocked to see Arthur there on the tarmac, waiting, and wearing his wedding band.

"Arthur…?"

"Hello, love…," Arthur said with his voice that had aged. Alfred hadn't seen him in four years. The last e-mail he had gotten was of bad news. He hadn't seen that weathered look seep into his eyes and pull down his body as regret and impatience transformed his body and mind.

"Why are you here?" Alfred asked tersely.

"You…you stopped e-mailing me."

"Yeah, because I was mad." Alfred crossed his arms. He was still painfully young. "I just stopped for a few days, that's all."

"That was years to me!" Arthur exclaimed. He grabbed for Alfred's arm, praying it wasn't a video; praying that it wouldn't lie to him and admit that Alfred wasn't here.

But his fingers met cloth. He pulled him close. He sobbed in his arms and fell to the ground in happiness as he called his name. He exploded in happiness to feel him again, to smell him, to find that he hadn't forgotten. It was only days to him. The regret and anger hadn't crept into his bones yet.

"Darling, I'm sorry!" Arthur repeated over and over until his throat was raw. He hugged Alfred around the neck and cried into his shoulder. "Please, oh please, forgive me."

"Shh," Alfred whispered after a while. He put his arms around Arthur. "Come on. Let's go home. You're making a scene."

It felt like another four years had been sucked from Arthur then. The drive home was too long and too quiet. He sniffled every so often as his crying had triggered his sinuses. There were no tissues in the car either. Somehow, though, he felt younger already.

The house was cramped again. Alfred brought all of his things out of storage. But he slept in a different bed. Arthur hadn't told him he had thrown out the old mattress with a new one. He also bought him a new robe. But Alfred didn't know. He could only assume what was tainted, not knowing that Arthur hadn't seen his lover in years.

And then, one day, the e-mails arrived. One by one, they flooded Alfred's inbox. The sender was always the same. He was a haggard looking old man that aged daily. He never smiled. He was always sad.

Alfred opened them all up at once. He was swallowed in the voices of Arthur.

"Darling, I kicked him out."

"Darling, he's gone."

"I got a new mattress."

"I bought you a new robe."

"I miss the rain."

"Darling, will you…remember our adolescence for me? I fear I've forgotten."

"Darling…"

Arthur stood in the doorway from the bedroom and watched. He saw Alfred crumble to his knees and cry, shout his name out of happiness, and give his forgiveness. They kissed and hugged and Arthur knew he had never forgotten.

He stored away all of the good things about himself in Alfred's heart. It was there, waiting to remind him that while he had made a few mistakes, he was still an imperfect man. And Alfred had never forgotten how much he truly loved him for it.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: Originally this was to be much sadder and longer, like Al never came back, or the mission was pushed back so much, by the time he came home, Arthur had passed away. But… I dunno, this kind of appeared.


End file.
